Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Finland and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Barrington Levy to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q and Not U record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Mars,
Rufus Thomas,
Sonic Youth,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Pus,
The Music Machine,
Althea and Donna,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Soft Cell,
Don Cherry,
Ronnie Foster,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rakim,
Spandau Ballet,
Alphaville,
A Certain Ratio,
The Birthday Party,
PIL,
Parry Music,
Rosa Yemen,
F. McDonald,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Nation of Ulysses,
Crispian St. Peters,
Robert Hood,
Royal Trux,
Barrington Levy,
Camouflage,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Icehouse,
Big Daddy Kane,
Altered Images,
Al Stewart,
The Vogues,
H. Thieme,
the Swans,
Pussy Galore,
EPMD,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sandy B,
Brand Nubian,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bootsy Collins,
Bizarre Inc.,
Derrick Morgan,
Von Mondo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Max Romeo,
Magazine,
Heaven 17,
World's Most,
Isaac Hayes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
R.M.O.,
Todd Rundgren,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.